


Temptation

by irena_adler



Series: Didn't Happen [3]
Category: Die Hard (Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Post-Canon, Regret, Rimming, Temptation, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-23 18:37:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15612474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irena_adler/pseuds/irena_adler
Summary: John attempts to manage his attraction to Matt.





	1. Management Technique One: Avoidance

**Author's Note:**

> In 'Inter-Mission', John intiates a sexual encounter during the day of the Fire Sale, then forbids Matt to ever mention it again. 
> 
> In 'Remember That Thing that Didn't Happen?', it's days later and they're both in the hospital.  Matt is high on painkillers and forgets that he's supposed to have forgotten the sex.  He talks John into another round, reasoning that if it 'didn't happen' before, then it can 'not happen' again.  After more great sex, further discussion is interrupted by a knock on the door from a random Fed.  John tells Matt once again that this is a secret, then goes and chews out the Fed.  Matt realizes that he's totally hooked on the way John takes care of him, even if they have to keep pretending nothing is going on.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John considers his life, Matt's life, and temptation.

**Temptation, Part 1** \- 'Management Technique Number One: Avoidance'

  
He was just going to have to avoid him. Plain and simple. He obviously had no willpower when it came to Matthew Farrell.

John grimaced and slammed his fist into the punching bag again. His healing shoulder throbbed in pain and he tried to go easier. He wasn't a young man anymore, someone who could recover from gunshot wounds in a week. But a soft tap did nothing for his inner turmoil. He moved over to the speed bag and began the familiar motions. He had the gym mostly to himself this time of night, which was good because it was really loud in his head right now.

"All those years of being good," he muttered to himself. "Resisting temptation, pretending that temptation didn't _exist_ , gone in a second with that kid."

It's true that he'd never met anyone quite so tempting when his adrenaline was pumping and he was pretty sure he wasn't going to survive the day. He hadn't resisted and Matt had accepted. Oh, _how_ he'd accepted. John had figured that it was a good way to go out.

But then they'd lived and Matt had shown definite interest in Lucy. So John had figured that it had just been a courtesy fuck, something to keep the Hero going. He'd put it down to Fire Sale Insanity and tried to forget about it. Not that he could. It had been so goddamned _amazing_. He'd relived it over and over again in his mind, embarrassing himself more than once when a nurse had come in to find him with his hand under his hospital gown.

Then Matt had said that he wanted it to happen again.

John hit the bag extra hard and pain shot through his shoulder. Grimacing, he stepped back from the speed bag. He leaned against the nearby wall, taking comfort in its old, cold cinder blocks.

_God, how I wish I could claim that_ I _had been drugged._ His behavior at the hospital had been shameful. What the hell had he been thinking? He hadn't been thinking, obviously. Matt had been drugged, unaware of what he was doing. And John had let him talk him into one more incredible fuck. That was a new low for him, taking advantage of a drugged, injured man. No matter how tempting.

To make it worse, John knew that made him just another in a long line of people taking advantage of Matt. He'd read that file he'd mentioned to Matt and, while John had seen plenty worse, it was a sad one, indeed.

John pushed himself away from the wall and grabbed his towel. His shoulder was already starting to stiffen up. He better go get a shower while he could still move.

He went into the concrete shower room, just an open area with a bunch of shower heads, and stripped off his sweaty clothes. As he let the hot water pound his shoulder, he reviewed what he remembered from Matt's thick file.

When Matt was five, his parents and two younger siblings had died in a car crash. No relatives had stepped up to take him, so he'd been sent into the foster care system. John would bet that even at five Matt had already been too smart and too smartass for his own good. Matt had gone through a series of foster homes, then had started adding in trips to Juvenile Detention in between. His first trip to Juvie had been at ten, after he had built his own computer and hacked into a college network - at a time when few people had ever even heard of the Internet. His record had also been peppered with citations for fighting. Being smart, skinny, and not able to shut his mouth would be a disastrous combination in Juvie. John had lost track of the serious injuries listed during the first 18 years of Matt's life. After he'd left the system, no one had tracked the injuries anymore. Matt had disappeared for a few years, falling into that dreadful foster care 'aged-out' gap. He'd been accepted at a local college and took a semester there before disappearing again.

Matt had resurfaced at 22, arrested as part of a complex computer crime that John didn't really understand. From the reports that John had read, though, it was a brilliant and somewhat Robin-Hood plan. The team of criminals had hacked into the Swiss banking system, no little task, and put a small program in there. Every day the program would go into a random large account, siphon off a miniscule percentage of the money, say $1000, and send that money to a charity such as Habitats for Humanity, Greenpeace, _Medici Sans Borders_ , International Red Cross, etc. The computer program had been so subtle that it could have run indefinitely, giving donations to worthy causes for years.

Unfortunately, as usually happens, one of the criminals had gotten greedy and tried to alter the process to pull out a million dollars. It had tripped alarms and the guy had gotten caught. He'd promptly given up all his co-criminals, including Matt. Matt's part had been small, otherwise he'd be in a Federal prison right now, not just serving a suspended felony sentence and on the Black Hat list. His job had been to write the part of the computer program that randomized which bank account was accessed. According to a high-level consultant on the case, Matt's program had been 'ground-breaking' and was closer to 'true randomness' than the consultant had ever seen. John didn't get why it would be so hard to be random, but it had to have been brilliant because the consultant had promptly offered Matt a full-ride scholarship to the Math Department at MIT. The administration at MIT had nixed that offer to a felon, or else Matt's life might have turned out quite differently.

John shook his head at the injustice and turned off the water. Still thinking of Matt, he dried off, went to his locker and started to get dressed.

After the Big Crime, the next thing in Matt's file had been several ER visits, with injuries labeled as 'suspicious'. These had been followed by two restraining orders against Matt's girlfriend and another friend. That impressed John - it took guts to stand up to abuse by a woman. Hell, it took guts to stand up to any sort of abuse, especially with Matt's background and generally rotten luck with other people.

Matt's file after that had been pretty scant. There'd been little for the last few years, except occasional notes that he'd been 'brought in for questioning' on various crimes but was deemed to be 'not involved'. Matt seemed to have set himself up as a 'security consultant' and people who probably wouldn't hire him as an employee, due to his felony record, were willing to bring him in as a short-term consultant. He made decent money at it, according to his tax returns, but it had to be very isolating, with no benefits or long-term prospects. He probably bought Red Bull by the case, so he had no reason to ever leave his apartment. His health was obviously suffering from his lifestyle and now he had no apartment at all.

_Poor kid. Life dealt him a pretty rotten hand. He needs somebody to look out for him._

"But not you," John growled, startling the man at the locker across the aisle. "But not you," John repeated more quietly.

He knew he couldn't give Matt what he really needed - a mentor, a stable father-figure. The prospect of sex would now always be there between them and it would be too tempting to do it again. Far too tempting.

It shouldn't have been so hard to resist. John had dealt with temptation all his life, always hiding the fact that he liked girls _and_ boys. His dad would have beaten him if he'd known. John had also learned young that no one took you seriously if you were gay. They wouldn't let you play team sports, either. Sports had been the only thing that had kept John in school. Otherwise, he would have taken off from home when he was 14 or 15, and he could guess now how rotten that would have turned out. At the Police Academy, it had been made clear, yet again, that if John wanted to be a cop, he'd have to completely hide the side of himself that got turned on by men. Even now, he had a boss that was just like his dad, who'd find a way to fire John if he 'came out'.

Holly he had expected better from. It had taken him some time to work up the nerve, but he'd told her. He and Holly had been married several years and had Lucy before John admitted his urges to Holly. _Oh, and_ that _had gone over well._ Even though John had made it clear that he'd never cheat on her with a guy _or_ a girl, she hadn't wanted to hear it of her 'macho' husband. They'd never spoken of it again. When Holly had called him 'emotionally closed-off', John had wanted to say, 'Well, that's what you wanted.'

John also had first-hand evidence of how his kids would react to such news from him. Not too long ago, a once-favorite uncle had come out as gay. Lucy and Jack always claimed to be for 'gay rights' and 'tolerance' but it turns out that the tolerance didn't extend to family. For family it was 'creepy' and 'ew' and 'don't invite him for Christmas'.

The locker door down the aisle banged closed and John realized that he'd been sitting there, half-dressed, staring at nothing. The other guy probably thought he was drugged. John spurred himself into motion again. At least he hadn't been staring at the other guy. John had better control - _usually_ had better control than that. He knew to keep his eyes and his thoughts to himself.

Not that John hadn't sometimes secretly followed through on his desires. He'd become quite adept at finding discreet male lovers that wouldn't demand a relationship. But it had been at least a year since his last, and several years between that and the one before. He had figured he was just getting old, losing his drives, and maybe he'd be able to let down his guard finally.

Then … Matt.

John swallowed against a surge of arousal. He took a deep breath to make his hands stop trembling, then continued to button on his shirt.

If the sex with Matt had been awkward, uncomfortable, or 'just okay', he could have forgotten about it, put it in the category of 'Bad Things Done to Save the World' and gone on. But no, John had slid into Matt's ass like a deadbolt sliding home. Matt had molded into his arms as if he had been shaped for that moment, and then proceeded to delight John with his enthusiasm and energy. He'd made John feel better than he had in years, decades. The kid was fucking Temptation On A Bun.

Now that he knew what Matt felt, tasted, _sounded_ like, John knew he couldn't rely on his old methods for keeping his distance. Matt responded to his sharp barbs with those of his own, or just drowned John's resistance in a fountain of words and those big, brown eyes. John _liked_ smart and sarcastic.

He smiled wryly to himself as he remembered his first meeting with Matt. Not only had it not ended well - with the apartment blowing up and them on the run - but it hadn't started well either.

When Matt had opened the door and started mouthing off, John had just felt irritation. That had continued as John had followed Matt into his apartment. Oddly enough, the moment of attraction had happened as Matt was talking over his shoulder and trying to turn off his computer. To cover his reaction, John had turned away from him and made a crack about his action figures. Thank God that he did, because Matt had stopped using his computer and tried to escape out the window. Otherwise they'd have both been blown apart right there.

As they'd continued to survive together and get to know each other, John's attraction had only gotten worse. The kid was just so goddamned fucking _cute_. He was also awkward and brilliant and pathetic, with his mouth going a mile a minute, his hands and hair flying all over the place and him clutching that damned bag like it was his lifeline. True, the bag had contained computer stuff that had been very useful in the final showdown, but John wished it hadn't gotten that far. He would have happily left Matt at that jerkoff Freddie's house, somewhere safe. Somewhere out of reach of any bad guys and also of John. Instead, the kid had come along with John and together they'd saved each other and Lucy and the whole motherfucking country.

Not that the country had acted grateful about it. John had found himself defending Matt from the first moment the SWAT team came in - which was, of course, a moment after a SWAT team would have been really helpful. John had needed to physically defend him from being treated like a prisoner at the hospital, then verbally defend him over and over to the same bureaucratic jerks. Like the one that had hammered on Matt's hospital room door, just when John had been considering watching a little TV, giving Matt an I-know-what-it's-like-to-be-shot leg massage - and seeing if Matt would be able to get it up again for a third time. That interrupting bureaucrat had been lucky to escape with just some yelling, when John had really wanted to throw him out the nearest window.

No, Matt was still in trouble. And John had always a sucker for people in trouble. When he first met Holly, she'd been in a bad situation. He'd helped her out and she'd treated him like a hero. In fact, the best years of their marriage had been right after Nakatomi and the airport mess. The rest of the time, Holly just thought he was an overprotective, work-obsessed asshole. Which he probably was. No doubt his department-ordered shrink would call it some sort of Hero Complex. Well, who didn't want to be a hero? Yeah, the getting shot at and blown up was hell, but when Matt looked at him like he was God's Gift to scrawny, asthmatic hackers, John knew he'd do it all over again. _Yeah, and the please-don't-talk-to-the-media money is nice, too._ He didn't like always having to be 'That Guy' but he was. And so it would be nice to get something out of it like Matt.

_Dammit, you're not 'getting' Matt, in any way._

He looked around to make sure he was alone, because he wasn't sure if he'd said that or just thought it. It sounded pretty incriminating … and true.

Matt was way too young, way too vulnerable. It didn't matter that he'd begged for John's attentions. It didn't matter that he looked at John's old, broken-down body like it was made out of the world's best candy. John was the mature adult here, the one without trauma in his childhood, the one with a normal-okay comparatively normal psych profile. _How the hell do you know_ what _your psych profile says? Maybe you're just fooling yourself that you're well-adjusted._

"Okay," he said, arguing out loud with himself - a bad habit. "You're probably totally messed-up, too. Even better reason why you should stay away from that poor, messed-up kid."

He shook his head and finished tying his shoes. There were so many good reasons why he shouldn't see Matt again. That would be for the best for both of them - just stay away.

He set his phone, wallet and keys down on the bench next to him and pulled on his shoulder holster. He'd have to retrieve the gun itself from the front desk. After he put on his jacket, he bent to get the things he'd put on the bench. He saw that his phone was vibrating, moving away from his reach like some sort of evil bug robot. _You_ have _been hanging around Matt too much._

John grabbed the phone, punched the button and said, "McClane."

No one answered and the stupid phone kept vibrating.

"McClane!"

Nothing. He pulled back the phone and glared at it. Oh, the text message icon thingie was blinking. Why couldn't Lucy just leave him voicemail?

Mumbling to himself, he got the text message open and realized it wasn't from Lucy. It was from Matt. Thankfully he'd known enough to text John in English and not that txt garbage.

_They're letting me back into what's left of old apt. Kinda freaking out. Come w/ me?_

John sighed. It was understandable that the kid would be freaked out about going back into that shot-up and bombed-out apartment. It was also understandable that he'd want John with him, since John was the one that had gotten him out of there alive the first time.

In fact, part of John was pleased that Matt had asked for his help. The part that wanted to see and touch Matt again. _So the insane and stupid part._ The rest of him knew that continuing anything with Matt would endanger his career and his family relationships, not to mention his self-respect. Avoidance was the only option.

On his phone, John selected 'Reply to message' and laboriously typed out:

_M-e-e-t---y-o-u---t-h-e-r-e---i-n---o-n-e---h-o-u-r_

 


	2. Management Technique Two: Reframing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John tries to change his relationship with Matt to something more fatherly.

**Temptation, Part 2- 'Management Technique Two: Reframing'**

All through the ride to Matt's apartment, John berated himself. He had just come to the inescapable conclusion that any further relationship with Matt would be a disaster, and here he was, driving over to help him. He called himself all sorts of idiot and sex-fiend until he ran out of names, then he started over again.

Yet the moment that John saw Matt, he knew he'd made the right decision.

Matt was leaning against a lamp post, shoulders slumped, and staring at the apartment building with an expression that John had seen many times before. He'd seen it on the faces of survivors of deadly fires, workplace shootings, and-to a much greater degree-the horrors of 9/11. It was the look of a person whose world had dropped out from underneath him, whose sense of safety and normality had been stripped away and they didn't think they'd ever be able to return to an ordinary daily existence. John knew, in spite of what it felt like, that a person's sense of normal almost always adjusted eventually. Humans were great adjusters.

John shook his head at these philosophical thoughts. Remembering 9/11 had made him morose. _How about something more practical - where has Matt been living?_

John was angry at himself for not wondering earlier where Matt had gone after he'd checked out of the hospital. John had checked out before him and been drowned in paperwork and interviews. Still, that was no excuse for losing track of his saving-the-world partner.

So John had failed at his plan of avoiding Matt, but maybe it wasn't too late to salvage things. Maybe he could really be the father-figure Matt needed, put the sex in their past and be the anchor the poor kid obviously needed.

Using some old New Yorker tricks, John found a place to park his car. Matt's apartment building looked like all the other grungy, old apartment buildings in Camden. Except this had a broken, blackened area in one corner.

He called across the street to Matt, but Matt didn't turn. He crossed the street and came up behind him.

"Matt?"

Still nothing, so John touched Matt's shoulder.

Matt jumped and spun around.

John held up his hands. "Hey, hey, just me."

"Oh," Matt said, with a smile that was only a sham of his usual bright one.

"I called, but you didn't hear me."

"Yeah, hey, hi. Kinda loud in my head right now."

John gave him a wry smile. "Yeah, me too."

"Really?" Matt's eyes were shadowed, his skin even paler than it had been. It looked like he was wearing the same clothes he had been the day of the Fire Sale.

"Yeah," John said and put a hand on Matt's shoulder. "Where you been staying?"

"At my sister's - foster sister."

"She has a spare bedroom?" John pressed.

"A spare floor."

"Why don't you go to a hotel?"

Matt eyed him. "I don't have the cash."

"Oh," John said, feeling stupid. America had reacted to the scare of the Fire Sale in its usual way - hysteria and butt-covering. Finances, particularly anything that had been recorded electronically, were still in a flux, with most banks, ATMS, and credit cards frozen. Things were being done with cash or the old fashioned barter system.

"I could have loaned you some cash," John said lamely.

"I'm fine at my sister's."

"Can't be good on your knee to sleep on the floor."

Matt shrugged. "If it gets bad, I'll go to Warlock's. He said I could use his couch."

"Nice of him," John said, then stepped firmly on his urge to offer that Matt stay with him. _That_ would be a bad idea. John only had one bed in his place. _Think father figure,_ he reminded himself.

John realized his hand was still on Matt's shoulder - and seemed to be lightly massaging it. He yanked it back and cleared his throat.

"Ready to go inside?" John asked.

"No," Matt mumbled, but he led the way into the building.

In silence, they went to the elevator and rode up to Matt's floor. Matt looked so anxious that John wanted to put an arm around him. Would that be fatherly? He tried to remember if he'd ever put an arm around his son, Jack. He didn't think so, and could picture Jack's look of astonishment and suspicion if John were to suddenly hug him. But that just meant it was 'un-John-McClane-like', it didn't mean it was unfatherly. Maybe Matt would misinterpret it, though.

John was getting a headache. He'd done way too much thinking lately.

The elevator dinged and the door clattered open. They stepped into the hall and John's eyes immediately went to the gunshot holes up and down the walls. Most of the holes had been filled with gum or putty or paint. A few sections of wall had even been replaced with new wood.

A door opened down the hall. "Matt!"

It was the neighbor that Matt had once given a 'bad timing award'.

Slacker Kid continued, "It's about time you came back here, Matt, damn."

Matt made a helpless gesture.

"Do you see this place?" Slacker complained. "Everyone's stuff got shot up by those guys, man."

"Sorry," Matt mumbled.

"Yeah, and Sheri's okay, thanks for asking."

"Sheri?"

"The girl that lives below you? Man, didn't you even think about her? Her bed is right below where your computer was. She woulda been dead if she hadn't been out clubbing."

"Oh, good," Matt said weakly.

"Man, you got into some bad stuff and your friends made this mess, and all you can say is 'Oh, good'?"

"They weren't my friends," Matt protested.

"You brought them here. Man, you didn't even come back to see what you did."

John had heard enough. He stepped closer to Matt and put his hand on Matt's lower back.

"Hey, 'man'," John snapped, giving Slacker his best glare. "Those people were trying to _kill_ him. For just writing a totally legal computer program thing. And he's been busy in the _hospital_ , getting better from getting _shot_ while helping to save the whole damn country from going to _hell_. What have you been doing other than jerking off and downloading illegal games, dickhead?"

Slacker's eyes had widened when John had stepped closer and those eyes were now as big as pancakes. "Hey, man," he stammered. "Good to see you, hi." He stepped back into his apartment and shut the door.

John smirked. "Asshole."

Matt didn't reply and John saw that Matt's eyes were fastened on the door to his old apartment. What was left of the door, rather. The entrance was crisscrossed with yellow crime scene tape. The refrigerator had been moved out of the way but the rest of the apartment was as John remembered.

John still had his hand on Matt's lower back, so he pushed a little and Matt took an unwilling step forward. He nudged again and Matt climbed around the crime scene tape. John pulled the tape down and balled it up. He was quite sure that the cops and the Feds were done with this place.

The apartment was pretty much as John remembered it - a bachelor techno-dweeb's place. The electronics looked extremely expensive and fancy, and the kitchen looked like it was original to the 1940s building. Posters for bands that John had never heard of hung in shreds on the walls. On the floor were pieces of display cases and Matt's toys-'collectibles'- amidst splintered pieces of ancient furniture and empty Red Bull cans.

The least dusty place was the corner that held remains of a big computer, with shattered monitors and computer innards everywhere. That area had been cleaned up by the Feds as they'd looked for the source of the explosion. John had read their report - just enough C4 to blow up the computer, and whoever was sitting in front of it.

That reminded him …

He turned around and looked at the wall across from the computer area. Yep, there was a chalk outline at the base of it, where the person that _had_ been in front of the computer when it went off had landed in bits. That could have been Matt or him, but that was never good to think about too much.

Matt was standing just inside the room, staring at the spot where his computer had been.

"Just pack up a suitcase, okay?" John said. "Just some clothes and shit. Don't try to deal with everything at once, it's too much."

Matt didn't move, and, much more worrisome, he was silent. He hadn't spoken very much in the last few minutes either, even to defend himself from that jerk-off neighbor.

John walked over to him. "Hey, don't think about it. Just grab a few things and we'll get out of here, come back another day, okay?"

Matt was stuck in place, the whites of his eyes showing around the edges, and he was shaking.

"Hey, hey," John said and put his hands on Matt's shoulders. "You're okay, you survived. It was bad, but you survived."

Matt started to shake harder, his teeth actually rattling.

"C'mere," John said, pulling Matt into his arms.

John felt Matt grab his shirt and bury his face in John's chest.

"It's okay, it's okay," John murmured, rocking slightly. He repeated the words over and over again. John felt wetness on his skin. He patted and rubbed Matt's back, still rocking and murmuring, until he felt Matt's trembling begin to ease.

Matt turned his head to rest his cheek against John's chest and took a long, shuddering breath.

"Better?" John asked, relaxing his arms a little and looking down at Matt's now splotchy face.

"Sorry. God, what a baby, sorry," Matt sniffled.

"It's alright to be scared, remember?" John said, giving into his urge to brush the hair from Matt's eyes. "It's normal."

Still holding tightly to John's shirt with both hands, Matt gestured with his head towards the scorched corner. "That was my spot. I spent all my time there, in that chair. I could have died in that spot, too."

"And you could die walking across the street," John replied. He was becoming more and more aware of Matt's warm body pressed against his. "You aren't dead, so you just move on."

"That's it? Move on?"

"It's not easy but-"

"Move _on?_ " Matt repeated, "How do I fucking move on? Everything is _gone_!"

"You aren't."

Matt didn't seem to hear him. "It was the best gear ever, cost a shitload of money. I have offsite backups of everything, of course, but I'll never be able to put it back together like it was. It was _perfect_."

John's lips twitched. "You're the maddest because they blew up your computer?"

"It wasn't just a fucking computer, McClane, it was my _life_."

"No," John said firmly. "Your life is your life. You still got that. You still have your brain and your body and your life."

Matt released one hand from John's shirt to rub at his tear-stained cheeks. "Man, all my favorite stuff was right by my computer, too."

"You mean your dolls?"

Matt rolled his eyes. "Not dolls. Valuable collectibles. Some of them were worth more than you make in a month."

"Wouldn't be hard," John replied.

"Oh!" Matt said, suddenly letting go and sending John stumbling backwards.

Matt strode across the room, skirting the chalk outline as if he didn't see it, and went around a battered wall. John followed to find Matt crouching down, intently staring at some heavy-duty locked metal boxes. John vaguely remembered hiding by them just before the bomb went off.

"They're supposed to be fire-proof," Matt said, running his fingers along the edges and seams of the boxes. "But it never occurred to me to ask if they were bomb-proof."

"What's in there?" John asked. "More 'collectibles'?"

"I prefer to call them 'investments'," Matt said and looked up at John with a happy grin that should not have made John's stomach flip-flop. "Looks like they're okay. I don't want to open them up to check, though, not in all this dust."

"Really, what's in there?" John asked, trying not to outwardly respond to Matt's smile.

"Comic books," Matt replied. "And before you start rolling your eyes, did you know that a single comic book sold for over a million dollars not too long ago?"

"You got a million dollar comic book in there?" John said, impressed despite himself.

"No, that was for an issue of _Very Fine Detective #27_ from 1939, the first comic that Batman appeared in. I don't have anything that valuable, but the longer I keep my collection pristine, the more valuable it gets. I do have two Very Fine Platinum Age comics, early Tarzan reprint, a guy right up your alley, and several Gold Age comics that have The Atom-the Al Pratt Atom, not the Ray Palmer Atom or the Adam Cray Atom, but I do have some mint copies of the new Ryan Choi Atom from DC in 2006. Not the _DC One Million_ Atom-"

"And they're okay," John interrupted, though it was always fun to see Matt talk about something he got excited about.

Matt frowned thoughtfully. "Probably, but I don't want to open them to check them out, not with all this dust in the air."

"You never open them?"

"No way, the longer they stay in mint condition while others deteriorate-"

"Or get blown up."

"-Or get blown up, the more valuable they become. I'm going to be living on these babies when I'm as old as you are." Matt winced. "I mean, when I'm-"

"Get a suitcase," John snapped. Turning away, he walked towards what was probably the bedroom.

Matt trailed after him. "I didn't mean to say that you're _old_ , I should have said 'as young as you are' or 'when I'm old and gray, much older than you.'"

"I'm gray," John replied.

"Really? Where, I don't remember seeing any gray, and I _looked_ -"

"Do you have a suitcase?" John said, scanning the bedroom. It was as coated with dust as the rest of the apartment. The bed looked like it had never been made. Unwanted, an image sprang into John's mind - Matt, lying on the bed, one arm flung over his closed eyes, the other hand on his naked cock, slowing stroking …

John bit the inside of his cheek.

"I don't think I have a suitcase," Matt said. "A backpack, maybe."

Swallowing the taste of blood, John said, "Grab that and put some clothes in it, maybe a shaver and toothbrush."

Matt nodded and dug into the bottom of his closet. He produced an old purple backpack and started to stuff clothes into it. He wandered off towards the bathroom and John looked at "edgy" wall art that reminded him of his son's room at college. _That's right, McClane, think fatherly thoughts._

Stuffing a bottle of shampoo in the backpack, Matt came back out of the bathroom. "Even my bathroom is shot up. Bullet holes in the sink." He set his backpack on the bed and began zipping it up. Not looking up, he murmured, "God, McClane, how did we survive?"

That was a question that John had asked himself many times, with no real answer. "Luck?" he replied. "Clean living?"

Matt looked up and gave him a crooked smile. "I don't know about clean living, but I'll take some of that McClane luck anytime."

John smiled back. He was really going to have to do something about how Matt's smile made his stomach do somersaults. That was such a teenager reaction. _Think fatherly, dammit._

Out loud he said, "Hope I don't need any luck again for a long time."

Matt's face turned serious. "You need it every day, being a cop. I worry about you."

John blinked in surprise. "You worry about me?"

"Yeah, dumb, I know. But it would just be my shit luck if you survived all of the stuff we went through and got killed by some carjacker at a traffic stop."

John blinked again. The only thing he could think of to say was, "I'm a detective. I don't do traffic stops."

"Good," Matt said. "Keep it that way." He went over to a shelf, grabbed a few books, and stuffed them into the bag. He zipped the bag up and slung it over his shoulder. "Now, let's get out of here, this place doesn't mean anything anymore."

John followed Matt out to the living room, pondering Matt's attitude shift. Then he saw Matt's hand on his backpack was trembling.

Over his shoulder, Matt said, "If you could drop me off at my sister's? She doesn't have a car and there's nowhere in her neighborhood that I could park my car and expect to see it ever again. I took the bus here, but it took me two hours, then I had to walk-"

"No, you're coming home with me." The words were out of John's mouth before he even knew he was going to say them.

Matt spun around. "Really?"

John's throat tightened at the light that shone in Matt's eyes, but he managed to get out, "On the couch, I have a couch."

"Oh." Matt's face fell.

"It's gotta be more comfortable than your sister's floor."

"Yeah, sure, I just thought-"

"Couch," John said firmly.

"Oh. Okay."

"Just until things settle down and you can get a new place of your own."

Matt nodded. His eyes slid off John towards the wreckage of his computer.

"Let's get out of here," John said. "We can pick up some food on the way. Want some ketchup packets?"

"Sure, whatever," Matt said vaguely, seeming to miss the joke all together. "I don't suppose you have a computer at your place?"

"Nothing you'd want to use. You'd have to stay at Freddie's for that."

"I'd much rather go home with you." He stepped closer to John. " _Much_ rather."

John shook his head. "Couch."

Matt's shoulders slumped again. "Okay, okay."

John took the backpack from Matt's unresisting grasp and slung it over his own shoulder. "When the last time you ate?"

"I had a Red Bull on the bus."

"I meant _food_."

Matt shrugged, which John interpreted to mean 'not today and I don't remember if yesterday either'.

John said, "I don't have fancy computers at my place, but I definitely have food. Unless you're a vegan or one of those foodies."

"Okay," Matt said vaguely.

John was pretty sure that he had some steaks in the freezer. He'd cook them and then feed Matt, by hand if he had to. He grumbled at himself as the image that came to mind was heavy with sexual overtones. He'd have to find something safer to feed him. Soup, maybe.

Making sure that Matt was following, John moved towards the remains of the apartment door. He paused, then with a wry smile, inserted the end of the chain lock in the plate and slid it into place. Then he stepped through the door frame.

"Very funny," Matt mumbled.

John actually thought it was pretty funny, but Matt was not in a laughing mood. They got into the elevator in silence.

The door slid shut and John was about to press the ground floor button, when Matt said quietly, "3 years."

John turned to look at him.

"3 years," Matt murmured again. "3 years and 5 months. 41 months." He looked up at John, but his eyes were unfocused. "Do you know that's the longest I've ever lived anywhere? My whole life?"

John nodded.

"For 41 months, I put my clothes in the same place. I could buy a poster and know I'd have somewhere to put it. I could store things, save things. I could buy a comic and be able to preserve it. It wouldn't get chewed up by some dog or trashed by some kid. I could think about the future. Now that's all gone and I don't think I can get it back again."

John put his arm around Matt's shoulders. Matt leaned against him and gave a long sigh. John wanted to hold him tight, kiss him until he forgot his past, fuck him until he forgot everything but John.

John gave his own sigh. So much for 'reframing'. He wanted Matt, in a very unfatherly way, and he wasn't going to be able to stop wanting him. From some comments that Matt had made, Matt was still thinking of him sexually as well. John couldn't be the father figure that Matt needed. Maybe one of his friends on the Force could step into that role, take Matt on as a very worthwhile project. John could distance himself, but still hear about Matt occasionally. It would have to be enough.

Meanwhile, however, Matt was going to be staying at John's small place, sleeping just a few rooms away. The temptation was going to be huge but, for both of their sakes, he had to resist.

Nodding to himself, John pressed the elevator button.

He was just going to have to rely on good, old-fashioned, pain-in-the-ass willpower.

 


	3. Management Technique Three: Willpower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John follows his resolve.

**Temptation, Part 3 - 'Management Technique Three: Willpower'**

John followed a still-quiet Matt out of the apartment building and down the street. Matt turned in to a parking garage, which was probably 60 years newer than the apartment building, and they wound their way through the garage. Matt pulled out his keys and stopped at a tiny blue Smart Car.

"I'd have thought you'd have a Prius," John commented.

Matt looked up. "Are you kidding? The whole 'hybrid' hype is just an attempt by Big Oil to get around making a _real_ electric car, one that can be powered by renewable resources. My Smart Car has good gas mileage, and I can park it just about anywhere. Prius drivers are so smug and superior when they're really just perpetuating the hegemony of the status quo."

John smiled as some of the twinkle returned to Matt's eyes. "It's a weird-looking car."

"I bought it for functionality, not to be some sort of chick magnet."

"Oh, it's a chick magnet, sure. Chickens. Peck-peck."

"Ha-ha," Matt said, grabbing his backpack from John.

"Sure you can fit that in the car with you?"

"Oh," Matt said, some of his animation fading again. "I need to stop by my sister's place. I left a few things there."

"Sure, I'll follow you there and make sure no one steals the Nerd Mobile when you're inside."

"I've _seen_ Nerd Mobiles," Matt grumbled. "Tricked out Delorians, Batmobiles, rolling personal supercomputers, a car that was straight from Mad Max …"

"Where does your sister live?"

Matt gave him an address that was in the worst part of Camden, which was saying something, then got in his car. "Want a ride to your car?"

"Naw, meet you there," John said. "Gotta clear the dust from my lungs."

While walking back to his car and then driving to the address in Camden, John reviewed the reasons for staying away from Matt, trying to shore up his resolve.

John soon pulled up at the address--a grungy house--just behind Matt's car. High growing bushes screened most of the house, but what John could see looked like it might have cockroaches that could be used as doorstops. Matt stopped his car and hopped out. He gave John a jerky nod then disappeared into the bushes.

Several minutes later, just before John got out to follow Matt and make sure he wasn't trapped in a meth house, Matt emerged from the bushes. He was wearing an odd half-smile that John couldn't interpret. Matt went straight to his car and got in, then motioned for John to go ahead.

John frowned, got out of his car and went over. Matt rolled down the window and looked up at him with a strange glitter in his eyes.

"Did you inhale something?" John asked, giving him the 'DUI look over'.

"Just the aura of possibilities," Matt replied with a bright smile.

John eyed him. "You know it's the couch, right?"

"Sure thing!"

"Okay … Where are we going now?"

"To your place, right?"

"Don't you want to know the address where I live?"

"Naw, I'll just follow you. Hey," Matt's smile got even brighter. "Why don't you try to lose me and I'll trail you? It'll be fun."

"Definitely inhaled."

Matt's smile vanished and he snapped, "It's called 'mixed feelings', okay, McClane? I'm glad to not be sleeping on her floor anymore, but she's still stuck there with her bastard of a boyfriend. She's never let me help her."

"Oh, sorry," John nodded in sympathy. "Seen too many of those situations."

"Not when they're your only family in the world."

"True, you're right. Sorry for riding you."

Matt's smile blinked back into full sunniness. "Feel free to ride me, John, any time."

"Heh," John said with a smirk. "Couch, boy, couch." He started to walk back to his car.

"I can do 'couch'!" Matt called behind him. "And floor and dining room table and anywhere else you want!"

John had to laugh, though images of what Matt was suggesting made his body wake up and take notice. He got into his car and pulled out in front of Matt.

He didn't try to lose Matt on the way into the city, since he didn't want to have to go find him again. Instead, he went through the possibilities of people on the force that could be a mentor for Matt. Detective Sterling had too many kids of his own. Detective McKinney was, well, she was too single and pretty and John would go nuts if Matt started dating another cop. So John was going to have to automatically eliminate all the women in the office, even the married ones. Officer Lum was too young to be any good at mentoring. Officer Boyne was a scumbag - great for undercover work but nothing else. Detective Obernolte was a jerk and Sergeant Zak wouldn't understand Matt at all. One by one, John crossed everyone in his department off the list, then started going farther afield - other precincts, the DA's office, even his own doctor and dentist and guys he knew from his favorite bar. John got to his apartment before he could come up with anyone even half-way acceptable.

John pulled into his parking space and got out, still racking his brain for names. Matt drove up beside him and rolled down his window.

"Where can I park?" Matt called.

John gestured to the parking spot next to his and began to walk towards the door to his building. He walked slowly and Matt soon caught up to him.

"If I get towed, you're paying for it," Matt said.

"Hmm?" John said. "Oh, it's my spot, but I just have one car. My neighbor's girlfriend usually uses it, but it's still mine." John took Matt's bags from his unresisting grasp.

"Whoa," Matt said, "You have an _extra_ parking space? In the City?"

John shrugged and typed in the key code to the front door with a spare knuckle.

"That key pad is soo easy to crack," Matt said.

"Don't get any ideas," John said, heading for the stairs, then remembering Matt's knee and turning instead for the elevator.

"Besides," John said as he pressed the UP button, "I bet you memorized the code as I punched it in."

"Well, yeah," Matt admitted and John chuckled.

They got off at John's floor and John went ahead so he could set down the bags and get the door. He tried to remember what state the condo was in when he last left it, then tried to remember _when_ he last left it.

Matt shuffled up behind him. "Wow, not the bachelor pad I imagined at all!"

John gave a tired nod. "Yeah, Holly and me bought it together for us and the kids. Now I can't sell it or rent it or she gets half." He pointed to the left. "Living room's this way."

John led the way down the hall. Matt followed slowly, both because of his injured knee and because he was sticking his head in each doorway. "How many rooms have you got?"

"Three bedrooms, four bathrooms, which I always thought was weird to have more bathrooms than people." John walked past the kitchen entrance and threw his wallet and keys on the side table. He pulled out his gun, stuck it in the little safe, and shut the safe door. "Sometimes I feel like I still share this place with three other people, they left so much junk here."

"Nice TV!" Matt said, pushing past John into the living room. He tossed his bag on the couch and sat down. "Hey, nice couch, too!"

John smiled. "Glad you like it, since it's your new bed."

"Hmph," Matt said, but didn't look too put out. "Where's the remote?"

"By the lamp," John said and finished emptying his pockets. He tossed his jacket on a chair and shrugged out of his shoulder holster. Matt was already engrossed in figuring out John's TV setup, so John left him there and went into the kitchen.

He actually found himself humming as he heated up some spaghetti carbonara on the stove. It seemed like forever since he'd gotten out more than one plate at a time.

While he often ate in front of the TV, John wanted somewhere he could make sure that Matt ate. He went into the dining area-Holly had always called it a 'breakfast nook'- and decided the table would do, once he cleared it of newspapers and old case files. He cleared it off then wiped it clean of newspaper ink and paper dust. He'd returned to the kitchen and was dishing the spaghetti onto plates when Matt appeared at his shoulder.

Matt sniffed. "That smells great!"

"Leftovers," John shrugged.

Matt went over to the fridge while John juggled some hot garlic bread out of the toaster oven.

"I don't have any Red Bull," John warned.

"I can do regular soda," Matt said. "Just none of that diet crap. Or a beer would be good."

"No beer tonight," John said.

"Why, got something harder?"

"No alcohol tonight," John said firmly.

Matt smirked. "Going to need your wits about you, McClane?"

"No, I'm not, Farrell."

"Hmm," Matt said, stroking a non-existent beard. "I see."

John snorted. "Just get yourself a drink and bring me a Coke." He carried the two steaming plates of food out to the dining table.

John heard the pop of a soda can and Matt came out already drinking his. He tossed another can to John who caught it on automatic, the rest of his brain noticing how the movement of Matt's throat as he guzzled the drink.

"Need to get forks," John mumbled and went back into the kitchen.

He took a deep breath-how was he going to manage a few days with Matt when he couldn't even get through a meal without a hard-on?- and then opened the silverware drawer.

Dinner turned out to be not so bad. Matt wolfed down the spaghetti at the same time as talking about the electronic upgrades John 'had to' make to his system. John tried to argue that it got the ballgames, so it was fine, but Matt kept talking. By the time that Matt's plate was empty from a second helping of spaghetti, he had wandered onto the topic of media conspiracies and conglomerates and John was pretty much tuning him out. It was just nice to see Matt back to his usual animation, not the bleak mood at his old apartment.

"Man, that was good," Matt said, sitting back and patting his stomach. "You've got to give me the name of the place."

"What place?"

"Your Italian take-out place. Do they deliver?"

John waved his hand towards the kitchen. "I cooked it."

"You what?"

"Cooked, you know," John said, smiling at Matt's stunned expression. "With ingredients and everything."

"You can do that?"

"People _do_ cook."

"Not in New York, they don't."

John shook his head. "I used to do that and I know tons of cops who only eat take-out. And they're fat and poor. Living like that will get you chained to a desk, answering the Crime Tips Hotline and eating Twinkies."

"But you said it was leftovers."

"Yeah, from yesterday. I cook every two or three days and then eat the leftovers the other days."

Matt pointed to his empty plate. "Okay, this wasn't exactly low-calorie food."

"No," John had to agree. "But I like bacon."

"Oh, me too," Matt said. "As long as I don't think about the loopholes in food processing safety and what they've done to pigs to make them-"

"Don't ruin bacon," John warned.

"Are you sure don't-"

"I've cut out all these things that are supposed to be bad for you," John said. "So I can live a few years longer. Now shut up about bacon."

"Okay. Can I talk about beer?"

"Only if you say it's good for you."

"Well-"

"Shut up."

Matt smiled. "Or what?"

"Or I'll bounce you out of here on your ass."

"You'd throw me out on the street for trying to improve your health?"

"You're not trying to improve my health," John shot back. "You just like showing off your wild conspiracy theories."

"Oh, that's not wild," Matt scoffed. "I got a lot wilder ones. Even mainstream experts agree that bacon-"

"Leave off the bacon!"

They were both standing by this time, toe to toe, their chairs shoved back.

Matt started, "How can you want to be ignorant-"

And John knew there was only one sure way to shut Matthew Farrell up. He grabbed Matt's shirt, yanked him closer and smashed his lips down on Matt's.

Matt moaned and pressed his whole body against John's, his mouth opening up eagerly under John's onslaught. John kissed him with all of his pent up frustration and desire and anger at the situation. Matt's hands scrabbled at John's shirt and pulled it from his waistband. John reached around Matt to cup his ass through his jeans, at the same time lifting Matt up. Matt wrapped his legs around John's as John nipped at Matt's ears.

"God, yes," Matt gasped. "I was wondering how mad I had to get you before you would-"

John released Matt who fell with a thump to the floor.

"No, shit, wait!" Matt said. "I just can't keep my mouth shut, forget I said anything! I don't have anything against bacon, really!"

"Goddammit," John groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. "Goddammit, Farrell."

Matt grabbed hold of John's legs and pulled himself back up. "What's wrong? What's so bad about me?" He held onto John's shirt. "I can tell you want it almost as much as I do."

"Doesn't matter," John said, pushing Matt away.

"No, you don't," Matt said, hanging onto John's left arm with surprising strength. "You're not an alcoholic and I'm not a beer. Explain, you goddamn Neanderthal."

John sighed. Matt probably deserved an explanation, especially after John's shameful behavior at the hospital, taking advantage of Matt's drugged state. John jerked out of Matt's grip, turned away from Matt and picked up a dirty plate. "It's not as simple as it might be for someone your age and generation."

"If you're going to talk about how old you are again-"

"Some jobs are fine with being gay, but not mine. I'm afraid that some cops are a bit 'Neanderthal' in that way. It would be the end of my career." John started carrying the dirty dishes into the kitchen and Matt followed.

"Really?" Matt said, "But you're bi, right? Holly, right?"

"Yes, but 'bi' is even worse. At least gay is something they've heard of."

"That's discrimination, and it's against the law even-"

"Doesn't matter," John said heavily. "And I'd lose my family, if they ever knew."

"C'mon, give your family a chance to-"

John turned on Matt. "I did," he said harshly. "I did give them a chance and they made their opinions clear."

"Wow," Matt said, blinking. Then he recovered. "But nobody has to know, it can be our secret, I'm good at secrets."

John shook his head. "I won't do that to you. You deserve someone who doesn't have to sneak around, as well as someone-"

"Don't say it."

"-closer to your age."

Matt threw up his hands in frustration. "People my age like Slacker Dickhead?"

"I'm sure there are plenty other choices."

"Oh, really? Because I haven't had a date with a guy _or_ a girl in eons."

"You can't have been trying," John insisted.

Matt growled in disgust and stomped out of the kitchen. John leaned on his hands against the sink for a second. He should have known not to bring Matt back to this place, all John had experienced here with Holly and the kids were arguments.

He pushed himself away from the sink and followed Matt into the living room.

John said, "It's better for both of us."

"Wow," Matt snapped. "I haven't heard that one in my life."

"Matt …" John said helplessly. "I'll get the department relocation guy to find you a good place."

Matt stopped in front of the couch, facing away from him. "So that's it, then," he said, his voice low. "You've decided."

"There's nothing to decide!"

Silently, Matt snatched up his bags and headed towards to the door.

John blocked the way. "Please, Matt. I know I'm a hard-ass, but I don't want you to go back to that place. Hate me all you want, but my couch has got to be more comfortable and safer. Just for a few days."

John watched as Matt pressed his lips together and blew a long breath out his nose. Matt's hand on his backpack strap tightened until his knuckles turned white. Suddenly he looked up at John and said brightly, "Okay, but I get to own the remote control."

He turned around, stalked back into the living room, tossed his backpack onto a chair, and grabbed the TV remote. He pressed the button to make the TV turn on and pulled his knees up to his chest. In the light of the TV, Matt's eyes glittered with unshed tears and John felt like all kinds of bastard.

John left Matt to watch TV and went to clean up dinner. He washed the dishes slowly, going over the same spots over and over again. When he could no longer drag out the task, he dried his hands and went to the living room.

Matt was sitting in the same position, his arms wrapped around his knees. The TV was showing some reality series that John didn't recognize. Matt didn't really seem to be watching it, but he'd set the remote down.

"Whatcha watching?" John asked.

Matt didn't answer, just shrugged. John sat at the other end of the couch and stared at the TV. After a few minutes, John decided that reality shows hadn't improved and that there was nothing more unnatural than a silent Matt.

John stood up and went to find sheets and a pillow for the couch. He located them, and then added a blanket, though it was summer in NYC. He brought them back and set them in a pile next to Matt.

"Need anything else? I can get some Red Bull in the morning."

Matt gave another dismissive shrug.

"I'm going to bed," John said, though it was still fairly early. He couldn't stand to be around Matt any more tonight. "Good night."

Matt didn't respond. John gave his own shrug and left the room.

He got ready for bed quickly, pulling on shorts and an old T-shirt, then grabbed a book he was reading and got into bed. The book, a crime thriller, couldn't hold his interest, however, and he soon turned off the light.

John lay in the dark and listened to what he could hear of the TV through the shut bedroom room. His mind refused to quiet down and he went over and over his thoughts and conclusions about any kind of relationship with Matt. His thoughts cycled around and around and came up with nothing new, except for the fact that the way things were, John would always end up alone. Holly was gone for good, though it was still hard to accept that. He was getting too old for one-night stands and he also had the feeling that they wouldn't satisfy him anymore, not after Matt. It was hard to picture getting excited about humping some stupid, grunting redneck.

_I've always got my job. There's never any shortage of bad guys to chase down._

Closing his eyes, John reviewed his current case files until he drifted off into a dream of chasing Matt through the streets of New York, trying to get him to eat Chinese take-out. This changed into Matt and John in the same car, driving down a potholed, gravel road, with Matt saying, 'You really need to bring your phone into the 21st Century, McClane, or at least the 20th.' John tried to defend bacon but Matt was talking about the 'status quo hegemony', whatever the hell that meant.

Suddenly, John jerked awake, heart pounding, but … the other side of his bed was as empty as it always was.

 


	4. Management Technique Four: Finding a Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt helps John find a solution to their dilemma.

  
**Part 4 - Management Technique Four: Finding a Way**

John lay quietly, trying to figure out what had woken him. He had heavy light-blocking curtains for when he did night shifts so his bedroom was in complete darkness. His cop instincts were jangling, telling him there was someone close by, someone who shouldn't be there.

He slowly pulled back the sheet and slid out of the bed. He wished, not for the first time, that he could keep his gun by his bed. Instead, he grabbed a large, heavy, flashlight that he had stashed nearby.

He didn't flick on the flashlight but felt the way across the carpet with his bare feet. He'd almost reached the door to his room when he felt something different and soft under his toes. Tightening his grip on the flashlight, John slowly crouched down. He carefully groped forward and found a warm, blanket-covered body.

Growling to himself, he stood up and switched on the room light.

Matt was leaning against the bedroom wall, curled up in the blanket that John had given him, and snoring softly.

"Matt!" John snapped, adrenaline still jumping in his veins. He shook Matt's shoulder. "Hey, hacker kid!"

Grumbling, Matt opened one eye. "Was asleep."

"I can see that, but why are you sleeping on my bedroom floor?"

"Not been sleepin' since bad stuff and now you're wakin' me up to ask me why I'm sleepin'?"

"Why aren't you on the couch?"

"Couldn' sleep there," Matt said, rubbing both eyes and yawning. "But could sleep here."

John shook his head. "I brought you here from your sister's house so you _wouldn't_ have to sleep on the floor."

"Much better floor," Matt mumbled and closed his eyes again.

John sighed. "Hey, you win, there's room in my bed. It's a King, so lots of space."

Matt shifted closer to the wall. "Would rather sleep here if you won't touch me."

John ran his hand over his face. Taking a moment to collect himself, he walked over and set his flashlight on his chest-of-drawers.

_It's the middle of the night. Does it really make a difference if he's sleeping on your floor or in your arms? He'll be gone in the morning and you'll have one more memory to jerk off to._

John cleared his throat. "C'mon, kid. How could once more hurt?"

Matt sat up, suddenly wide awake and grinning. It was infectious and John couldn't help grinning back.

Matt tossed the blanket aside and stumbled towards the bed, trying to pull off his shirt as he went. John grabbed hold of him, and slid his hands under Matt's shirt. Matt twisted around and fell backwards on the bed with a laugh.

John ran his hands over Matt's lean body … then froze. And stepped back.

"What now?" Matt demanded.

"I …" John's stomach twisted. "Shit, I can't. Before, when we … it was coercion, no, _God_ , it was rape."

"Whuh?" Matt stammered. "Huh?"

John covered his face with his hands. "God, I'm such an asshole."

"Yeah, okay," Matt said and pulled at John's arms. "You're an asshole. What's new?"

"You were drugged and I just … _ugh._ "

"Dammit, McClane, it's the middle of the night and I just woke up and I don't know what the hell you're talking about."

"Before," John said, forcing the words out through clenched teeth. "The first time it was coercion, you were in the middle of nowhere with me, in a tense situation, and maybe you didn't feel like you could say 'No'. The second time … you were drugged and didn't know what you were doing and-"

Matt pushed him away. "Fucking A! I did everything but actually put your dick in my ass, which I would have done if I could have figured out how! Dammit, there's been no coercion or goddamned _rape_ unless you count me trapping you into fucking me again."

John slowly uncovered his face. "You were drugged."

"Agh! Will you stop thinking that you're the only adult here and that I'm some goddamned child that has to be protected from you!"

John winced. That was something that Holly always said. "I'm not treating you like a child, just-"

Matt waved his hands wildly. "You goddamned fucking are! I've wanted each and every time and if you don't have sex with me right now, it's because you're a selfish, over-protective jerk who wouldn't know his dick from a yellow dual-phase two-handed lightsaber!"

John stared at him, then somehow started laughing. "A yellow what?"

Matt flushed, then wryly started laughing as well. "A lightsaber that's adjustable and you hold it-never mind. Okay, we both done saying stupid stuff for now?"

John studied Matt's face and decided that he was telling the truth - he'd felt no coercion. John smiled, feeling a huge weight lift from him. "Yeah, okay."

"Now, where were we …" Matt lifted his shirt and started to pull it over his head. John tried to help him and it became a tangle of hands and clothing.

John felt almost light-headed with anticipation and his body was roaring into life. He was going to get Matt again … if he could just get this shirt off. John growled in frustration and yanked.

"Hey, this is my only shirt!" Matt protested. He pushed away from John and gave him a mock glare. John raised his eyebrows and folded his arms. Matt rolled his eyes and took off his own clothes. John didn't mind at all watching as stretches of pale skin were exposed. Matt grew awkward under John's gaze, which perversely made John want him even more.

"You gonna join me or what?" Matt asked and John gave a wry chuckle. He'd asked Matt that same question ages ago, during that first time, when he'd caught Matt just watching him undress.

John quickly stripped off his T-shirt and shorts. Matt reached towards him and John yanked him close, leaning down to crush his mouth against Matt's. He kissed him while cupping and kneading Matt's bare ass.

He broke away, picked Matt up and tossed him onto the middle of the bed. Before Matt could recover, John had climbed onto the bed and braced himself on hands and knees above him.

He grinned down at Matt's already flushed face. "Welcome to my bed."

Matt grinned back and tugged at his arms. "Come down here and welcome me properly."

"Don't worry, I will." John leaned down and whispered in Matt's ear. "But we don't have to rush, this time."

"True," Matt murmured and ran his fingers slowly up John's chest.

A naked Matt stretched out underneath him was almost too much for John's self-control, but he reminded himself that this was his last time, so he needed to go slow and get his fill of Matt, if that was possible.

John explored Matt's body thoroughly, mapping every inch with tongue, fingers, and teeth. Matt touched him back wherever he could, his slim fingers cool and a little tentative on John's skin. John tried not to think about his scarred and old body, even uglier in comparison to Matt's smooth, young one. Matt made little noises of interest and discovery as he went, so perhaps it wasn't so disgusting in Matt's eyes.

Eventually, John had Matt face down and relaxed. John had saved Matt's ass for last, and - perhaps he imagined it, but Matt seemed to be trembling in expectation.

Stretching out the moment, John climbed over the mattress to his side dresser. He retrieved some supplies, and crawled back. Matt had turned his head and was watching him.

John first got out a disinfectant wipe - he was sure that Matt hadn't prepared his body in any way - and rubbed Matt's asshole, outside and a little ways in. He followed that with a soft, dry cloth. He tossed both aside, and then went straight for that tight asshole with his tongue.

"Fuck!" Matt moaned with surprise, pushing up into John's mouth. John rimmed him until Matt was squirming and begging him to keep going while also swearing at him to insert something more substantial.

Grinning, John sat up and warmed a lube bottle in his hands. Matt was panting so hard that John wondered if he'd actually triggered Matt's asthma.

"You okay?" John asked.

"No, you stopped!" Matt snapped.

John laughed - Matt seemed to make him do that more than anyone he'd ever known - and lubed up a few fingers. He pressed his index finger into Matt's wet asshole.

"Are you ever going to fuck me, you know, with your dick?" Matt complained, but he spread his legs wider and pushed up against John's hand.

John quickly added a second finger, then began to slowly twist his fingers while rubbing Matt's prostate. Matt quickly returned to squirming, begging and swearing. His hips were raised and John caught glimpses of Matt's hard cock pressing into the bed.

Matt's breath hitched then he called out, "Back off, I'm gonna come!"

John slid his hand under Matt's hips and wrapped his hand around Matt's cock. "Do it."

"Fuck!" Matt shouted and his cock throbbed in John's hand.

There was nothing like a man's orgasm - the wild unrhythmic loss of control, the pulse and shudder, the sudden hot smell of cum in the air.

John's own cock ached in time to the squeezing of Matt's ass and the rocking of Matt's hips.

"Fuck," Matt whimpered, still lurching slowly. "You fucker."

John laughed and pulled his fingers out. They'd gotten quite squeezed by Matt's orgasm and he flexed and shook them. John was looking forward to that being his cock.

"Fuck," Matt said again, his voice fuzzy. "You do that so I wouldn't come too soon again?"

"Yeah," John replied, but the truth was that he just enjoyed making Matt come and seeing that blasted, stunned look like he had on his face right now. He knew Matt could handle coming twice to his once. There were some definite advantages to having a much younger lover.

He turned Matt over and slowly cleaned him up, coaxing Matt from his satiated, blissed-out state through to the beginnings of new arousal. He began to softly lick Matt's re-awakening cock while Matt's hands slid over his shaved head. Finally, Matt tugged at John's ears and John lifted his head.

Matt said impatiently, "Are you going to fuck me any time soon or just make me keep coming until I black out?"

John grinned. "Sounds like fun."

"Your dick in my ass, already!" Matt groaned. "Goddamnit, McClane, you are such a tease!"

John laughed, startled. He'd been called many things in his life, but 'tease' was new. "Just taking my time."

"Cock tease!"

Just for that, John pushed Matt flat on his back, then climbed up his body and put his cock right next to Matt's big mouth. "Want some cock, kid?"

Matt replied by greedily sucking him in. John stared, mesmerized as he was the first time by Matt's active mouth and the way his hands roved over John's thighs and balls and stomach.

Distracted, he almost came in Matt's mouth. He jerked back, breathing hard, and earned a sly smirk from Matt.

"Just roll over, smartass," John said. "Or did you change your mind?"

Matt turned over so quickly that it was John's turn to smirk. He slid back down Matt's body, kissing a few choice spots, before checking with his fingers that Matt's asshole was still loose and wet. John rolled off Matt and got the condom. He added some more lube to the condom and took a few deep, steadying breaths.

When he felt like he had himself under control again, John rolled Matt onto his side and scooted close up behind him. He put his cock against Matt's hole and pushed slowly inside.

"Finally!" Matt groaned and John had to agree.

He started, oh so slowly, to move.

John had fucked some pretty amazing, gorgeous asses in his life, and it made no sense that the best one ever would belong to a skinny, jittery brainiac who'd probably only kissed a boy once or twice before John met him. There was no explaining it, and he didn't have any time to waste wondering or regretting the upcoming loss of said ass. John just needed to shut off his brain for now.

He pressed his chest closer to Matt's back and focused on enjoying the full sensory assault that was sex with Matt. He smelled like sweat and Red Bull, felt like silk with patches of denim, and sounded like a full porno track all by himself.

John tuned into Matt's steady stream of words.

_…godyespleasefuckgonowthereharderwowpleasegodKEEPMEohyesfuck…_

"What?" John said, stuttering to a halt.

"What?" Matt groaned. "Why did you stop?"

"You said 'Keep Me'."

"No, I didn't," Matt snapped, tensing up. "Now, c'mon."

"Okay." John hesitated, then started moving again.

There was a quiet moment before Matt began to relax again and his stream of words returned. John listened closely, keeping his thrusts slow and long and even.

_…hellyespleasegodfuckwowbabyyesnowKEEPMEhardgodjohngoyes…_

John kept listening.

_…yesnowbiggopleasewhatohKEEPMEhardjohnpleasegoyesDON'TSENDMEAWAYyesohwowgodfuckyes…_

John pressed his cheek against Matt's back.

_…pleasenowyeswantbabyyesgodjohnKEEPMEnowyesgoodwantyesnowwantyouharderbiggodohpleasegodjohnI'LLDOANYTHINGyespleasebabygod…_

John's chest tightened at the desperation - and history - in Matt's plea. He wanted to say, 'I don't want to send you away, please stay,' but he couldn't. All he could do was hold Matt and fuck him the best way he knew how.

Over the years, John had worked hard to develop his sexual stamina. It was very important when sexual encounters with men had to be rare and carefully planned that he, literally, only got one shot. He could - and wanted to - fuck Matt for the next hour, but he was worried that Matt might be getting sore. Despite Matt's attempts at unconcern, John knew that Matt's ass wasn't very used to this. John didn't want Matt to be too sore tomorrow, since John would want to-

_Dammit, don't think about the not-going-to-happen future._

Instead, John reached behind himself to the lube bottle and got his free hand slick. He wrapped his fingers around Matt's cock, earning an appreciative groan from Matt. Then John closed his eyes and concentrated on releasing his iron control, on letting his body do what it had desperately wanted to do for a while.

Quickly his thrusts grew harder. His hand slid erratically up and down Matt's cock as he slammed wildly into Matt's ass. Matt cried out something and John distantly felt Matt's cock pulse in his hand. Matt's ass squeezed and it was perfect timing. Colors blossomed behind John's eyelids then he was riding his orgasm up and over to the other side of bliss.

Someone was saying, "Damn, damn, damn" and it was him.

Matt laughed, a crazy, unfettered sound, and John got a rush of delicious shivers.

"Damn," John said again, just to punctuate it and Matt gave a shaky sound of agreement.

Too soon, however, John came back to earth. He held Matt and listened to their joint ragged breathing. He wanted Matt to stay, he didn't want to send him away. He was going to miss Matt, and not just this part. _If there was only some way…_

With a frustrated grunt, John pulled out of Matt and set to cleaning them both up. Matt gave him his glazed, satisfied smile as John wiped up Matt and the sheets. Tossing or putting away the supplies, John stepped out of the room to wash his hands. He avoided meeting his own gaze in the bathroom mirror. He didn't want to see the sadness there.

He went back into the bedroom and Matt hadn't moved or lost his smile. John turned off the overhead light, then turned on his side-table lamp. He wanted to be able to see Matt all night. He climbed back into bed and pulled the sheets up over both of them. He pulled Matt close and buried his face in Matt's soft hair. Matt's small body felt perfect nestled in John's arms. Tomorrow it would be back to his empty, cold bed.

_This huge bed and no one to share it with. This huge apartment and no one …_

Suddenly John's eyes snapped open and the solution came together in his head, like the way a case sometimes did at work. Maybe it was just delaying the inevitable catastrophe, but … He might not be able to be the father figure that Matt needed, but there was something that John _could_ give him.

"Stay," John said.

"Wasn't planning on going anywhere," Matt mumbled. "Except maybe to the bathroom, and I could use a Red Bull."

"You can always 'use a Red Bull'," John chuckled. "But I don't have any. We can buy a case tomorrow." His arms tightened around Matt. "I meant stay _here_ , in this apartment. I can clean the junk out of Jack's room and you can stay there. It's got to be tons nicer than your old place."

"Alcatraz would be tons nicer than my old place," Matt replied. "But I can just sleep here, with you."

"Maybe," John said, "But if we tell people that you 'moved into Jack's old room', they'll think nice father-surrogate son thoughts, and not 'God, he's banging that kid'. "

"Mmm-hmm," Matt said, shifting in John's arms. "But he is 'banging that kid'."

John warmed to his subject, plans falling into place. "We can move Jack's stuff into Lucy's room, if we pack it tight. But leave his bed. It's a pansy big 'sleigh' bed but the mattress should still be good, for when you do sleep in there." John rolled onto his back, keeping one arm around Matt's shoulders. "I know you're going to have to do some shit to the electrical wiring - I saw your old 'gear' - but you better get a permit for all of it, I don't want the Super down on me because you blew out the building's fuses."

Matt sat bolt upright. "Holy shit! You're serious!"

John grinned up at him. "Yeah, kid, damn serious."

"I can stay here and really move in and stuff?"

"Yes, you can stay here as long as you want, 42 months at least."

"Whoa, like have all my junk here and safe boxes? You're going to need to get a better TV."

"Probably," John admitted.

"And you can fuck me every night," Matt said happily, leaning towards him.

"No!" John snapped.

Matt jerked back. "Dammit, McClane, you going to be an ass still and pretend you don't want it?"

"No," John said, more quietly. "I just meant that whatever happens between you and me, if we're … lovers or friends or hate each other's guts and only talk when we absolutely have to. Whatever we turn out to be, you will always have a place here. This is now your house, too."

Matt stared at him. His brown eyes then grew impossibly wide and suspiciously wet.

John smiled at him, feeling a strange warmth in his chest. Yeah, he was old and pathetic, but he could still make a big improvement in the crappy hand of cards that Matt had been dealt in his life.

"I expect you to help with the utility bills and groceries," John said, still enjoying the stunned -and silent - way that Matt was staring at him. "God knows that both bills are going to go up. Before you probably stole your power from the restaurant down the street, but I'm going to be a selfish jerk about following the law here."

Matt visibly swallowed. "I … I don't know what to say."

John grinned. "That's got to be a first."

Matt leaned over and kissed him hard, his hands trembling against John's cheeks.

Stroking his fingers through Matt's soft hair, John gentled the kiss. Matt turned his head and buried his face in John's shoulder.

"Hey," John said, still stroking Matt's hair. "You don't need to say anything. At least not until you've got a good dose of what living with me means - my dirty socks on the couch, drinking the last of the beer without getting more, coming home at all hours or not coming home for days, the occasional cigar, snoring …"

Matt chuckled wetly against John's shoulder. "I've lived with worse."

 _I bet you have,_ John thought angrily, though he wasn't sure who he was angry at. God, The Universe, whoever, but that was normal. He just knew that he could make a _difference_ for Matt, and maybe find himself a little happiness in the bargain.

There was a long silence as this new idea sunk in for both of them.

Finally, Matt quietly said, "Earlier you were arguing that you don't want me to be your secret guy because you want me to be free to find someone 'better'."

Matt lifted his head and John could see his face was serious.

Matt continued, "There's a flaw in your argument. There _is_ no one better, and I _have_ been looking. You're everything I could possibly want."

"Old, divorced, and over-protective?"

"Strong, funny, caring, and a dick the size of Godzilla's. That's if he has one, there's this big debate. But if he does have one, yeah."

John laughed. "Size queen."

"Maybe," Matt said, his smile a little wobbly but getting steadier. "I think I need more research."

"Oh, you going to go and find some other dicks?" John tried to say it lightly, but he knew it sounded hostile and jealous. _Dammit, you're already screwing this up. You never said you weren't going to let him see other people._ "I guess you could try other-"

"No, way," Matt said fiercely, "Because you the _hell_ aren't going to go fucking anyone else if I have anything to say about it."

John snorted softly. "You might have something to say about it, if you want."

"Yes," Matt snapped, then he smiled wickedly. "What I _meant_ by research is that I'm going to have to investigate your dick very thoroughly, repeatedly, over a long period of time. From the top, bottom, sideways, upside-down, day, night …"

"Oh," John said, ridiculously relieved.

"… backwards, forwards, on the table, under the bed …"

"Okay, okay," John laughed. "I get it. Lots of sex. Hope I can keep up with you."

"An _epic_ amount of sex. We better both get some internet Viagra."

John eyed him, remembering Matt's sex-whispered, 'I'll do anything'. He put a hand on Matt's bare shoulder. "Matt, really, lots of sex is great but only if you want to. Never feel like you _have_ to. You aren't paying the rent with it."

Matt flinched and looked away and John knew he'd hit a sore spot. He was definitely going to have to investigate that issue further - there might be some bastards in Matt's past who needed to be hunted down and hurt.

John felt a yawn coming. "But not tonight," he said to both himself and Matt. "I haven't been sleeping well since that mess either." He pulled Matt back down into his arms and tucked the sheets around their naked bodies. "I'm going to sleep much better tonight."

"Sex tire you out?" Matt asked.

Tightening his arms, John took a deep breath of the sweet warmth of another human being. Not just any human being either, but one he kind of liked having around. "It's not just the sex, kid."

"Oh," John heard a smile returning to Matt's voice. "Arguing with me tired you out?"

John chuckled. "You tire me out in so many ways."

"Right back at you, McClane."

"Tomorrow, we'll get you started on moving in."

"I can't do any heavy hauling, I have a bad knee."

John snorted. "Wimp."

"Neanderthal."

"Hacker."

"Tool of the Oppressor."

"You bet."

"Why do I even try?"

John smiled, closed his eyes, and rested his cheek against Matt's hair. As he drifted off to sleep, John murmured the most romantic thing he could think of …

"Kid, I'm going to take _such_ good care of you."

 


End file.
